The Journal
by GoDownWithThisShip
Summary: AU where Chamber of Secrets hasn't happened. Voldemort is vanquished and Hermione returns to Hogwarts. She finds a journal and the most unlikely things happen. Can it be trusted? Eventual smut TOMIONE
1. Chapter 1

**This is an AU where the Chamber of Secrets never happened. The battle of Hogwarts occurred and Voldemort has been vanquished.**

Hermione sat alone in the library. This is where she preferred to spend most of her time. Hogwarts was lonely these days. She wished Harry and Ron would have opted to complete their seventh year of education after the battle. Naturally the two had disregarded her logic and began their training as aurors. Hermione scribbled dates next to major events on her timeline. It felt odd to be doing something so mundane. She had almost grown accustom to running through the country side and dodging malicious spells. She was writing the date next to a particularly tragic battle. The walls, bookshelves, and desks seemed to melt away.

_She was walking through the half demolished corridor. A breeze whipped through the gaping hole in the castle's outer wall. The moon shone on the debris, both stone and human. There were bodies, corpses, lying in unnatural angles. Some limbs were obviously broken, dislocated, or simply missing. Some were lying face down in pools of blood. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cool night air. The smell of rot was seeping into her pores. She felt as if she was going to be violently ill…_

Hermione blinked rapidly and the library came back into focus. She was gripping the edge of the desk so hard that her knuckles were threatening to break forth from her skin. She gulped in oxygen until her lungs threatened to explode. _I need some air._

She gathered her things and left the crowded library behind. She walked aimlessly down the corridors. _I just need someplace to get away. I just need someplace to get away. I just need someplace to get away-_

She halted. The bricks of the wall to her right were changing shape to create a doorway. _Of course, the room of requirement saves the day again. _She thought gratefully. She opened the door and slipped inside. The room was relatively small and the entire back wall was a gigantic window looking out on the grounds. The natural light filled the room which was made of wood paneling. An odd thing to see in a brick castle. There was a long, comfortable looking couch set in front of a roaring fireplace. On the wall behind it stood a large wooden bookshelf filled with hundreds of books. Next to the bookshelf was a wooden desk with many drawers and a chair.

She dropped her bag next to the desk and sat in the chair. It conformed to the natural curves of her body and she let out a sigh. It was _much _better than being cooped up in the library. She pulled out her homework and began to work.

x~x~x~x~x~x

The next day, she found herself wandering back to the room of requirement. She didn't have homework, but she was interested in seeing the books that the shelf had to offer. She stood in front of the stone wall and mentally repeated "I just need someplace to get away". Instantly the door reappeared and she pushed it open to reveal the room from yesterday in the exact condition that she had left it.

She walked over to the bookshelf and began to scan the titles. She was disappointed to find that she had read almost every volume that the shelves contained. She examined shelf after shelf until finally, something caught her eye. She removed the black leather bound book from its place in the shelf and flipped through it's pages. The pages were blank and yellowing. _It's a journal._ She thought excitedly.

A separate part of her brain awoke immediately. _Check it. It could be dangerous._

She doubted something as simple as a _journal _could be dangerous. She was painfully reminded of some other seemingly harmless objects that had turned out to be more than they appeared. _A locket, a ring, a diadem._

She pulled out her wand and tapped the cover while mentally reciting a spell to reveal any form of magic. When nothing happened after a few moments she was convinced the journal was in fact not bad-natured, she took it to the desk and opened it to the first blank page.

She opened a few of the drawers and fished for a quill. Luckily, there was a horde of stationary in one of the drawers. She began to write. At first she started off simply.

_Hermione G. January 1, 1999_

_Today, I had absolutely nothing to do. It was marvelous. I spent the whole day doing absolutely nothing and it felt odd. I haven't done nothing in quite some time. _

But she found her thoughts wandering to darker places.

_Before, doing nothing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down meant death. How could I have lived that way? Living day to day knowing that at any moment, it could be your last._

She couldn't quell the feeling of liberation that was erupting through her. It felt nice to share these inner thoughts, to vomit them out onto paper. To get them _out _of her. When she finished writing she looked at the words scribbled onto the yellowing page and she smiled. It wasn't happiness that caused her to smile, it was relief.

She sat for a while and watched the sun set behind the trees of the forbidden forest. Then she picked up the journal, cradling it in the nook of her elbow, and left the room.

That night her dreams were plagued with unspeakable horrors. She awoke to the comforting silence and darkness and familiarity of the girl's dorm. She lay back on her pillows and decided to write Harry and Ron in the morning. _I don't have anything to tell them. _She thought to herself, _but it will be nice to hear from them._

**Hope you like it so far! :D**

**More to come later**


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione awoke early the next morning. She planned to write her letters to Harry and Ron before class. She sat cross-legged in her four poster bed with the curtains closed. A blank piece of parchment lay neatly in her lap and her quill was posed at the ready. No words were springing from it. In fact, she had no idea what to write at all. Usually one writes to update the recipient of their letter about events and occurrences in their life.

_There haven't been any events or occurrences in my life, _Hermione thought, staring blankly at the paper in front of her. _I mean, the great hall had pork chops for dinner last night. Ron used to love the pork chops, but that's hardly enough material for a letter._

She tapped her chin with the end of her quill. The soft feathers tickled her face. She decided that one letter would be enough. She didn't need to write Harry and Ron separately. She doubted she had the energy to anyway. She placed the tip of her quill on the paper and began:

_Dear Harry and Ron,_

_I hope all is well in your nobel quest to become aurors. Hogwarts is quiet these days which is a welcome transition. I've been spending most of my time in the library (I'm sure neither of you are surprised). I'm sure you both have much more interesting things to share and I look forward to hearing from you._

_Hermione_

She paused to look at her work. The letter was bony and lacked any sort of substance whatsoever.

_PS: They served pork chops last night, Ron._

Hermione felt partially satisfied. She folded the letter and placed it in an envelope and addressed it to her friends. She then got up, dressed, and left for the owlrey.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

Her classes dragged on all morning. She easily mastered the new spells, charms, and potions that were introduced during the lessons. Usually it took her a bit longer to complete her work because she would have to pause to help a struggling Ron with a particularly difficult spell, or a confused Harry with a cryptic step in making a certain potion.

Now she only had one person to worry about, herself, and she didn't need any sort of looking after. She found herself asking to be excused to use the loo or get a quick drink of water. She often dawdled in the corridors; discovering paintings she had overlooked, or pausing to inspect the stitching on intriguing tapestries she hadn't bothered to notice.

Her day was completely uneventful until after lunch. She was sitting in the back of the History of Magic Classroom. Her food was digesting sluggishly and her eyelids grew heavy. Her body longed for a nap, but her mind kept reminding her that everything presented in a classroom was important and required her attention.

She fished around her book bag, hoping to find a piece of gum to occupy herself with. Instead she found a tough, black, leather bound journal. She frowned. She hadn't recalled slipping the journal into her bag. She opened it cautiously on the desk and almost cried aloud.

Her original entry remained untouched, but underneath, someone had written in elegant cursive. Her eyes brushed over it, and she realized it was a response to her own entry.

_Hermione G. (interesting name, if you don't mind me saying so) I can relate. I too find myself with too much time on my hands. I agree, it's completely fine for one to enjoy a little free time. However, there's an old saying: Idle hands do the devil's work._

_I don't quite understand the next part of your message. When I lay down for a nap, for example, I'm not fretting over someone hexing me or killing me in my sleep. It appears that either one of two things is true. Maybe both._

_You could be extremely (and unnecessarily) paranoid. I doubt this is the correct assessment._

_I think you've either seen terrors that you can't even begin to describe in words. You can't share them with anyone because people who have experienced such things are rare. Is that why you've turned to writing in this journal?_

_I can completely relate. It's the reason why I bought this journal in the first place. I find it's easier to confess to it's pages than it is to attempt to have someone understand me. Is that how you feel as well Hermione?_

_-Tom_

Hermione read over the response numerous times. Adrenaline pulsed through her veins causing her body to go numb. _How did someone find the journal? Why would they write in it, then return it? WHO is Tom?_

She tried to recall the names of everyone in her year. She hadn't heard of anyone called Tom. She doubted there were any sixth years named Tom either. She pulled her wand silently from her robes and tapped the cover of the leather book again. _What are you hoping to accomplish? _she asked herself.

_I just want some answers._

When she failed to reveal any sort of magic once again she slumped back in her seat. She was stumped. She had a bad feeling about this journal, but she wasn't sure what to do with it. Perhaps she should just get rid of it. _No, _a little voice inside her head spoke up.

Hermione of course could not resist a mystery such as this. She decided she was going to get some answers. She picked up a quill from her desk and began to scribble into the journal.

_Tom. Interesting. Who are you? How did you come across this journal? Why have you decided to contact me?_

She set the quill down with a little too much force. She glared at the pages, half expecting an answer to bloom upon them in the same beautiful script as it had before. She was waiting for Tom's reply. However, nothing happened. She couldn't fight off an acute feeling of disappointment. Perhaps it was one of her room mates playing a joke on her.

Her blood boiled, _It's not a very __**funny **__joke, _she thought.

**Ooh~ the plot thickens. Sorry there's no actually Tom Riddle in there yet. Never fear! I'm just setting up the story for now.**

**Thank you for the reviews and the favorites! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione climbed the stairs to the girl's dormitory. Her legs ached from running to and from classes. She had a full schedule and the only thing she was looking forward to now was the soft mattress of her four poster bed. She pushed the door to the dormitory open and was relieved to see that it was empty. Her dorm mates must still be up and about. It would seem fitting seeing as it was only half past ten. She changed into her pajamas and laid down. Her mattress cradled her spine and her sheets enveloped her in a warm cocoon. She closed her eyes and awaited for the moment when reality morphed into subconscious.

It never came. She lay there for what seemed to be twenty minutes. Sleep was obviously taking its sweet time. She sat up and decided to read a book while she waited. She crawled to the edge of her bed and reached down to her book bag on the floor. She shifted through its contents and she produced the notorious leather bound journal. She could hear the faint sound of giggling and footsteps on the dormitory stairs. She drew the curtains around her bed sunk back into the mattress.

"Lumos," she whispered and climbed under the blankets.

She flipped to her entry and her heart rate quickened. Tom had replied.

_Hermione, you sure do ask a lot of questions. A lot of the __**right **__questions, I might add. My name is Tom, as I have already stated. I am seventeen years old. I died years ago. This was my journal. Why is it blank? you might be asking. I bewitched it Hermione. You see, the things this book has contained in its pages are so __**secret **__and so __**dear **__to me, that if any other living being were to read it, well… let's just say I wouldn't be too happy about that._

_I occupy myself with this journal. You see, I'm a bit..stuck. I'm not a part of the world of the living, nor have I truly moved on. I'm in a bit of a gray area. It's not the most interesting place, in fact it's rather lonely. That's why I'm contacting you Miss Granger. I haven't had anyone to talk to in __**decades. **__I miss it._

_I can understand if you're frightened. I would be too, and I'm not one for superstition. If you decide to dispose of this journal, there will be no hard feelings. If you are interested in continuing our correspondence, you need not do anything more than write._

_-Tom_

Hermione bit her lower lip. She hadn't heard of such a thing before. She always assumed that ghosts either moved on to whatever awaited mortals after death, or they roamed about as vaporous silhouettes of their former selves. She decided to do more research on the topic tomorrow.

She nearly groaned. Tomorrow was no good. It was going to be another hectic day. _This weekend then, _she decided. She turned her attention back to the journal. _But what to do with this?_

On one hand she was undeniably curious now. She wanted to know more about this Tom character. She wanted to know why he wasn't moving on. She wanted to know about his life. He said he hadn't had anyone to talk to in decades. This implied that he had been dead for quite some time. She found herself wondering about what his life was like. She didn't even notice sleep overcoming her.

_She stood in front of a dusty book shop on an almost deserted city street. She tried to examine the store from the outside, but the windows were coated in a coat of filth. She could see a figure moving around inside. She pushed the door open and a small bell above it sang._

_Hermione realized the figure was that of a boy around her age. He had dark curly hair that bounced about his head as he turned to face her. His eyes were shallow gray ponds. His full lips pulled into a smile. Hermione found her eyes drifting over his distinct jawline and she could almost make out the shadow of his collarbones beneath the slightly opened collar of his button down white shirt._

_"What are you doing here?" his voice was a fluid tenor. Her eyes widened. Was this-_

_"Tom?" she asked._

_"How'd you guess?" he asked burying his hands in his pockets and closing the distance between them._

_She couldn't take her eyes off him. It was rather uncharacteristic of her. She usually wasn't one for ogling over handsome boys. Somehow she couldn't control herself._

_"What am I doing here?" she looked around, "Where exactly __**is **__here?"_

_"This? Oh it's just a little family run place. It probably doesn't exist in your time. It's a shame, really. I came here every day just to walk down the isles. It was like an adventure. Each time I would discover something new," as he spoke he began to drift down one of the nearby isles. Hermione followed him closely. It was strange, sometimes she felt the same when she was at the library._

_She would often wander aimlessly and browse the titles, sometimes she'd run her fingers down the spines of the books just to see how they felt. In front of her Tom reached out with one slender hand and traced the rows of books as he walked down the isle._

_"Do you enjoy the smell of particularly old books?" he asked, pulling a particularly fat tome from the shelf. He opened it and sniffed. Hermione joined him. The smell of musty paper greeted her nostrils. It was so vivid, as if she was actually standing there with the ghostly boy. She could feel him next to her, she could smell the books. The dream wasn't shifting erratically like most dreams do. It was focused and clear. She reached out for a copy of __**Pride and Prejudice. **__She could feel the weight of the book in her hands. She could feel the soft rush of wind as she flipped through the pages._

_Everything was so real._

_She looked back at Tom whose attention was now focused solely on her. She was even more confused._

_"You're rather curious," he said quietly._

_"How so?" she responded._

_"You don't say much. I enjoy that. You don't need to ask unnecessary amounts of unnecessary questions. You simply __**observe," **__he answered._

_The setting began to blur and contort. Hermione shook her head slightly trying to focus herself. It didn't help. The bookstore began to disappear. She looked up into Tom's eyes. They were soft, gray, and glittering. It was the last thing she remembered before everything went black._

**Yeah. I'm being a little less than straightforward right now. If you're confused or wondering what's happening. Don't worry, that's the point!**

**Thank you for such a positive response to my fic. I really appreciate all of you**


	4. Chapter 4

She awoke and tried to sit up. The muscles in her neck and back protested furiously and she sank back into the mattress. _What happened last night? _she wondered. She distinctly remembered a book shop, she remembered looking through books, and she remembered him. She had met Tom last night. _Don't be silly, it was a dream, _she reminded herself. She drew the curtains back and looked around the dormitory. The other curtains were drawn shut as well and her ears picked up the unmistakable sound of one of the girls snoring.

She reached for her watch on the nightstand to check the time. It was a quarter to six. Hermione had managed to wake up fifteen minutes before her alarm went off. She stretched, releasing the pressure in her neck and back. She proceeded to get ready for the day ahead of her.

x~x~x~x~x

Hermione felt weariness weighing on her as she sprinted down the corridor to the dungeons. She was already five minutes late for potions due to the fact that her schedule had it listed in the block right after Care of Magical Creatures. She swore under her breath and a nearby painting of a haggard looking nun scolded her. She paid no attention and moments later she burst into the potion's classroom. Professor Slughorn was dictating the ingredients necessary for today's lesson and Hermione quickly took a seat in the back of the room.

She was relieved to see that today's potion was going to be relatively simple to brew. She reached into her bag to produce her quill and notebook. She discovered something that she was not expecting. The black leather-bound journal. She plucked it from its place in her bag and set it on the desk.

_What are you playing at?_

She didn't remember packing it into her bag in the first place. She turned it over slowly as if expecting to discover that it had sprouted appendages and crawled into the bag itself. Naturally, it hadn't. She opened the journal and Slughorn's voice faded away as she began to read the new entry that had blossomed there.

_Hermione,_

_I hope that you slept well and that you enjoyed the insight I showed you last night. I'm sorry if it startled you. I hope this doesn't sound cliche, but I thought you'd might agree that seeing is believing. I simply wanted to erase any fear that you might harbor for me. _

_I know that can't be accomplished in one night. That's why I'm inviting you to join me again. If you accept, you need only have this journal close-by when you sleep. If you decline, well, the opposite will keep me from your dreams._

_-Tom_

She pondered his invitation._ Should I really get involved in this? _she wondered, _I have no idea __**who **__this Tom character is._

_There's only one way to find out._

She was surprised at her own rashness. What happened to the cool, calculating Hermione? What happened to the Hermione who did research to understand the possible outcomes of her decisions?

_She died last year. In the war._

Hermione quietly closed the journal and slid it into her bag.

x~x~x~x~x~x

That evening she rushed to complete her homework. She still did a relatively thorough job, but her handwriting was haphazard at best. When she was finished she shoved the parchment and books into her bag and checked the time. It was nearly ten o' clock. She went up to the dormitory and got ready for bed. She then grabbed the journal and crawled into bed, closing the curtains behind her.

She threw the sheets over herself and awaited sleep to take her. She wasn't aware of how long she lay there but suddenly there was a flash and she immediately fell into a slumber.

_"You decided to join me?" she was sitting in the back of a bus. The only other souls on the bus were the driver and the dark-haired boy sitting next to her. The latter was the one that spoke._

_Hermione nodded. "Where are we?" she asked._

_"Haven't the slightest idea," Tom said quietly. He gazed out the window with the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I only do this during the summer."_

_She followed his gaze and she forgot how to breathe for a moment. The scene flashing by was something out of an old movie. The cars were vintage models and only came in one color, black. The men shuffled about in suits and the women in long dresses with highly accentuated waistlines. The windows of shops advertised Cola being sold for less than twenty five cents. Frayed scarlet posters reading "Keep Calm and Carry On" were posted in shop windows and on brick walls._

_"When are we?" she clarified. She tore her eyes from the outside world to take a glance at Tom. The subtle smile on his lips was becoming slightly more magnified._

_"Nineteen forty-three," he replied simply. _

_The FORTIES? Hermione thought wildly. "And," she swallowed a bit to regain her composure, "What exactly are we doing on this bus?"_

_"Oh, right," he said, "Well, during the summer, when I'm not at school, I have a lot of time on my hands."_

_"So, you ride busses," Hermione finished._

_"Is that weird? I just want to see the city, Hermione. What better way than to hop on a random bus and just go," he said._

_"I don't think it's weird," Hermione said quietly. They watched the city rush by. A lot of the buildings were damaged and some were just piles of rubble on the ground. The bus had to take numerous detours and Hermione could see that the roads had been completely demolished in some places._

_She turned to Tom. He had seen the horrors of war, just as she had. It was raving in his back yard, it had most likely taken loved ones from him, it was staring him in the face every day. She then had another realization. This would be around the time of Grindelwald's reign of terror. He was caught between two worlds and two wars._

_"What is it?" he asked. He had obviously noticed her staring._

_"It's nothing," she mumbled and turned back to the window._

_"Hermione," he said quietly, "If it wasn't nothing, you wouldn't be so secretive about it."_

_"How can you stand it?" she asked._

_"Stand what?"_

_"This," she motioned at the bleak scene that flew past the bus window, "This, destruction."_

_He lowered his head, "It sort of, grows on you, I guess. I mean, the war's been going on for a while now. I just got used to it."_

_"Is that what's happened to me? Is that what's going to happen to me?" she asked quietly._

_"I don't think so," Tom replied. She turned to look at him again, he was already looking at her. Her honey colored eyes scanned his gray ones. "You've seen a lot, Hermione, I do not doubt that. It's just that you're still soft. You're still tender. You could see a thousand more wars, and I think that each will shock you as much as the last."_

_"So, I'm weak?" _

_"No. You're compassionate. It's a trait that many take for granted." His face was unreadable, but there was a sort of softness in his eyes._

_He took her hand in his, and she almost gasped at how real it felt. She could feel the warmth of his fingers and the pulse in his wrist. "You have to wake up soon, are you going to visit me tomorrow?"_

_Hermione nodded, "Of course, but, why do you want me to?"_

_"I'll answer your questions tomorrow, I promise, but it's time for you to wake up."_

_He was right. The interior of the bus was beginning to warp and darkness was gathering at the edges of her vision._

Hermione awoke with a start. She pulled the curtains back, the dormitory was still dark. She reached for her bedside table and her fingers stumbled across her watch. She took her wand in her other hand and muttered, "Lumos."

It was barely past five o'clock. She replaced her wand and watch on the bedside table, drew the curtains, and tried to fall asleep again.

She was unsuccessful. She just had too many questions about the journal. _Who was Tom? Why was he so eager to show her his life? _

She closed her eyes in hopes that the questions would eventually fade away. They wouldn't. They persistently swarmed in her skull and she lay there until she heard yawning and movement from outside her curtains.

The other girls were beginning to wake up and get ready for the day ahead. Hermione groaned and decided that she should do the same.

**Thanks for all the reviews. I'm going to try and PM some answers to some of your questions. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this new chapter**


	5. Chapter 5

She groggily followed a steady stream of students to the Great Hall. She took a seat with the rest of her housemates at the Gryffindor table. Just as she was beginning to select various breakfast items from the variety in front of her, there was the unmistakable hooting of a crowd of owls. An entire menagerie of owls swooped in from the high windows of the hall and landed in front of various students. There were letters, parcels, and editions of the Daily Prophet tied to their legs. Hermione was pleasantly surprised by a plain looking barn owl that landed in front of her, missing her breakfast plate by inches.

She untied the letters from its leg and it took off again, leaving her to read in peace.

The first letter was written in a scrawl that was borderline illegible. She identified this as Harry's letter.

_Hermione,_

_It's nice to hear that Hogwarts is finally quiet. (Must have something to do with me not being there right?). Auror training is difficult. That's why it's taken a while for us to write you back. We're at it from practically sunrise to sunset. I've learned about fifty new jinxes and counter jinxes. I've also managed to scald my hand brewing some shitty locator potion. It'll be worth it, though. It's what we've always wanted to do._

_Hope you still find joy in little things like you used to, (like getting great marks and the smell of fresh ink.)_

_Are the plans for meeting at the Burrow this Christmas still on?_

_Harry_

Hermione couldn't help but feel a rush of admiration for her friend. Her mundane woes were paled in comparison to his struggles. She also couldn't help but feel a little selfish. He was out there training to make a difference. She was still here, focusing on bettering _herself. _She wasn't helping anyone other than _herself. _

_But you're going to make a difference! _she tried to assure herself. _Remember? You're going to campaign for the rights of magical creatures!_

She still felt a little uneasy and decided to read Ron's letter. It was significantly shorter than Harry's and a lot messier.

_Mione, _

_Pork Chops? I'm jealous. The main thing they serve here is bread, cheese, and some gruel rubbish._

_Hope everything is well with school. I'm sure you're bloody fantastic as always._

_Miss you,_

_Ron_

She smiled a bit. It was reassuring to see that Ron hadn't changed a bit since his Hogwart's days. The war seemed to have little to no effect on him. He simply woke up the morning after the battle and everything was okay. He hadn't let it eat away at him. He had been wise.

She stuffed the letters into her bag and vowed to write a response as soon as possible. She couldn't help but feel eager for winter vacation. She longed to see her friends again and to gather in the familiarity of the Weasley home.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

She found herself in the library during a short break in her schedule. She looked through as many books as possible on ghosts and poltergeists, but the selection was disappointing at best. It seemed as if the wizarding world had better things to do than to concern itself with the dead.

She left disappointedly. _How is it even possible for a ghost to __**haunt **__a book?_ The thought plagued her throughout the day.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

That night Hermione found herself hesitating to go to sleep. She had finished her work and was indeed very tired, however a decision needed to be made. Did she really want to continue to galavant in her subconscious with a strange boy who she knew little to nothing about? Was he even real, or was she simply just imagining him?

_To have him appear in two dreams on two separate nights? How can I be __**that **__good at imaging someone?_

She decided that she was going to leave the journal on her bedside table. She had no desire to have any contact with the boy until she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

She climbed into bed, slid the curtains shut, and fell back against her pillows.

She awoke some time later. It was dark and she could feel sleep vaguely weighing down on her. She didn't know why, but she had the urge to have the journal with her. She wanted to read through it. She wanted to flip through its pages. What was most alarming was, she had no idea why. Her body seemed to move without her consent. Her mind was so sluggish that she could barely process what was going on.

She reached through a gap in the curtains and groped for the journal on her bedside table. It seemed to spring into her grasp and she savored the feeling of the worn leather binding against her fingertips. She pulled her hand back and settled down once again. Sleep came almost immediately, but while she was sinking under, she could have sworn that a soft glow was being emitted by the pages of the journal.

_Calm down Hermione, _she warned herself, _you're just really tired. You're probably just dreaming or something._

She yawned and at once everything faded out.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

_"Hermione, run!" she whipped around to see the familiar dark haired boy running toward her._

_"Tom? What is it?" her brain was still a little fuzzy but she could process where they were. They were in a corridor on the second floor near the lavatory. Tom was dressed in robes and she could see the green of his tie flashing against the white of his button down shirt._

_So he's a Slytherin._

_He grabbed her hand and began pulling her. She had no choice but to run after him. "Tom, where are we going?" she asked throwing a glance behind her shoulder. What were they running from? Surely there wasn't anything __**this **__dangerous in the castle._

_"Hermione!" there was panic in his voice, "Don't look back!"_

_She faced forward again and they turned a sharp corner. They stopped at a wooden door. Tom fiddled in his pockets for something and Hermione frowned at him. That's when she heard it. It was faint and distant at first, but she could tell that it was getting closer. It sounded like something was dragging on the stone of the hallway. Something large. It was almost like…slithering._

_"Tom," she whispered frantically. She could feel herself losing her cool._

_At that moment he produced his wand from his pocket, mumbled 'alohamora' and swept her into the classroom and slammed the door behind them. He used a spell to lock the door again. They stood there with their ears pressed against the door. At first it was silent. Then whatever was behind them slithered past the doorway, and it creaked against the weight of the creature._

_It's huge! Hermione thought. Her eyes found Tom's in the semi darkness of the abandoned classroom. His were wide with fear and she was sure hers were the same. At last he let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the door frame. He waved his wand and a few stray candles illuminated. The effect hadn't brightened the room much, but at least Hermione could make out his facial features a bit clearer._

_"What was that?" she asked. Her voice was shaking._

_Tom took a few deep breaths, "That, Hermione, was a basilisk."_

_Hermione froze. She wasn't sure what to say. She wanted to laugh aloud, to assure him that the basilisk was simply just a myth._

_But myths don't chase people down hallways and take up entire corridors._

_"You don't believe me?" Tom asked quietly._

_"Well, it's hard not to given the," Hermione searched for the word she was looking for, "evidence, that was just presented."_

_Tom let out a laugh. It was devoid of humor and full of nerves._

_"Why's it after you?" Hermione asked. She knew the rumors of the basilisk and the chamber of secrets. However, the rumors said the basilisk hunted muggle borns. Surely, the Slytherin before her was __**no **__muggle born._

_He scoffed, "You're like the rest of them." Tom stuffed his fists into his pockets and began to wander about the room. Hermione followed. She was confused. "You __**assume **__that I'm pureblood because I'm in Slytherin. Just like __**everyone else.**__" his voice was dark now and Hermione let out an involuntary shiver._

_"Blood has always been a secret of mine," he paused in front of a flickering candle. He ran a finger through the flame and it appeared unscathed. He repeated the action a few times while he spoke. "I've been keeping it a secret for a while now. My father, the one who shares my name, was a muggle," he said quietly._

_Hermione watched him carefully. She had ignorantly assumed that it was somehow a requirement to be full blood in order to be in Slytherin. She put an arm on the boy's shoulder and for a moment she thought he was going to shrug it off. Instead he turned to look at her. There were questions brewing in his icy gray eyes._

_"So, someone's set that monster on you?"_

_He nodded and looked down. "Guess they're just trying to __**purify **__the Slytherin house."_

_"That's a load of rubbish. __**Blood **__doesn't mean anything," she removed a hand from his shoulder. She could feel anger boiling inside of her. She knew __**exactly **__what it was like to be persecuted for having muggle blood. She knew what it was like to have to prove to everyone day after day that she was just as capable as everyone else._

_Tom turned to her again with a wary smile on his face. "You know that. I know that. Not a lot of other people understand that."_

_"Tom, I just have to know, how is this all possible? How can you show me these things? I'm…scared. I don't know how everything can be so…realistic."_

_He looked down. "I told you. I'm dead Hermione. All this…it's just memories. Memories I've saved in my journal. The journal you happened across. I understand what's going on just as much as you do." He was about to say more but he paused abruptly. He looked down again and busied himself with the melting wax along the candle stick._

_"What?" Hermione urged him on._

_"It's nothing. It's actually pretty ridiculous."_

_She gave him a look as if to say, 'Tom, we're past feeling ridiculous. I've seen a few intimate scenarios of your life and you saved me from a large memory-monster.'_

_He sighed, "I happen to…enjoy your company, and __**not **__just because I'm lonely," he clarified._

_"Well everything you've shown me has been __**really **__interesting, Tom," she said, and she meant it. His life seemed loads more exciting than hers. Granted, he was fighting for his life at this moment in time. Hermione stopped suddenly._

_That was it._

_She missed the excitement. She actually __**missed **__flinging curses at the enemy and camping out in the middle of no where looking for horcruxes. This new boy, whether he be ghost, or poltergeist, or memory was interesting. He was new. He was fresh. He was a mystery._

_Once again the scene before her began to get blurry. She reached out and squeezed his hand, "I'll be back again," she said reassuringly._

_He smiled back at her, "Thank you," he said quietly._

She awoke not feeling rested at all. She checked the watch on her nightstand. Four thirty in the morning. She lay back on her pillows and fell into a fitful, restless, slumber.

**Hi guys. I know some of you may find the plot to be a little slow, but bear with me. I don't want any Tomione action to spring out of nowhere, especially when Hermione knows so little about him.**

**ALSO this is important, I'm going to be busy so I won't be able to update for a while. I'm sorry!**

**Thanks for reading. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter **


	6. Chapter 6

**AN at the end of the chapter.**

Hermione awoke the next morning to find the girl's dormitory completely empty. She checked her watch and found that she had slept in. It was now almost eight o'clock. She threw an array of books and parchment into her bag, got dressed, and attempted to brush her hair before leaving.

She was forced to skip breakfast and hurry along to her first class that day, Charms. She was a few minutes late, but Professor Flitwick wasn't upset with her in the slightest. She quickly took a seat and listened intently on his explanation of the day's lesson.

Around noon, she found herself being carried by a current of students to the Great Hall. The smell of food perked her up a bit, and she eagerly made her way to the Gryffindor table. She heaped some food onto her plate and began to ponder while she ate.

Tom Riddle remained a mystery. Hermione began to make a mental list of the things she knew about him. She knew that he was not a pureblood. She knew that he was in Slytherin, and although he had shown her nothing but kindness, she couldn't avoid the stereotype that was associate with his house. He likes books and riding trains around London. _Is that supposed to help me understand?_

She concluded that she hardly understood or knew Mr. Riddle. She understood even less about his ability to live through the journal. She was suddenly frustrated by the lack of information that she was able to dig up on the method of possessing the journal.

She could feel a knot of pain collecting inside her skull and she gently massaged her temples with her finger tips. She then remembered what had happened in the dream last night. She had been standing in the second floor corridor near the girl's restroom. Tom had appeared out of nowhere shouting at her to run and not look back…there was something about…

_A basilisk._

Hermione vaguely recalled reading about such a creature. Supposedly a large serpent-like monster. Very keen sense of smell and hearing.

_One look could kill you.._

So that's why Tom warned her not to look back. If she had made eye contact with the beast she would have died. _Or would she? It was only a memory, right?_

Hermione decided that her best option would be to spend the weekend researching basilisks, reasons for one being in the castle, and ways that Tom could possess the journal like that.

x~x~x~x~x~x

Hermione survived the week and Tom hadn't reappeared since the incident with the basilisk. She found herself sleeping until her alarm woke her up. Instead of waking up and feeling weighted down by drowsiness, she felt alive and ready to face the day.

She awoke on Saturday, feeling refreshed. She decided to write a quick letter to Harry and Ron before leaving for the library to continue her research. She pulled out a small piece of parchment and a quill from her bag and sat cross legged on her bed. She paused for a moment with her quill poised above the parchment. She decided that she was going to send one letter to Harry and the other to Ron.

_Harry,_

_Are you okay? Were the healers able to take care of the burn for you? I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying yourself. It's great that you have found something specific that you enjoy doing. I'm still a little torn. I'm not sure if I want to work for the ministry after all the corruption that happened during the war. _

_So does this mean you're going to be off recapturing the remaining death eaters soon? Do be careful._

_I do find joy in the little things, but they're getting quite bland. I might just hop on a plane and see the world a bit after I graduate. You know, have a little adventure of my own._

_I would sure hope plans for the Burrow are still on. I miss you all so much! If Mr. and Mrs. Weasly are fine with having me over, then I'll be over._

_Hermione_

She crawled across the mattress to her bedside table. She opened the small drawer and dug around for a pair of envelopes. She tucked Harry's letter into one of them, addressed it, and began to work on Ron's.

_Ronald,_

_Your letter writing skills don't seem to have improved much. I think you should file a complaint. The food you described seems to be lacking in essential nutrients and is in no way fit to be fed to the ministry's future law enforcement!_

_Everything is going well. Stop, I'm not always fantastic. I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately._

Hermione paused. She was hesitant to bring up the journal. She didn't want Ron or Harry to get flustered over something so simple as stationary. She scribbled a half thought out excuse.

_You know, NEWT level classes and such. It's reasonably more difficult than sixth year. Maybe it's a little difficult to get back into the 'groove' of things._

_I mentioned in Harry's letter, that if your mother is okay with having me over for Christmas I'd be pleased to join everyone. Could one of you ask her? I don't want to seem like I'm inviting myself._

_Hemione_

Hermione folded Ron's letter and placed it in the envelope. She knew that she was always welcome at the Burrow, but she didn't want to seem rude in assuming. She quickly dressed, grabbed her envelopes and her bag and departed for the owlery.

x~x~x~x~x

The owlery had a very distinct smell and it over came Hermione as she attempted to tie her letters to the foot of an extremely squirmy barn owl. She put a hand over her nose and mouth to shield her orifices from the stench. The owl took the opportunity to wriggle from her hand and soar into the rafters.

"Fine!" Hermione huffed, her hand still covering half her face. She made her way over to a more docile breed of barn owl. This one stared at her dully as she secured both letters to its foot. She pulled back and expected the bird to take flight. Instead it cocked it's head as if to say, _now what?_

"Well go on then," Hermione said, gesturing to the window. The bird looked at her as if it suspected her to be insane and pushed itself from its perch and soared from the open window.

x~x~x~x~x`x~x

That afternoon found Hermione in library, buried behind a tall stack of books. She scanned the ancient volumes for hints of the monstrous creature she had encountered last night. She had found numerous references to it in various books, but none mentioned a Basilisk in Hogwarts.

She was ready to give up a she idly scanned the index of a book of ancient myths of the wizarding world. That's when she saw it. _Basilisk._

She turned to the page indicated and began to read.

_It is common knowledge that in 990 A.D. Hogwarts was founded by two wizards and two witches: Gordric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They each had very specific motives for founding the school. It was Salazar Slytherin who harbored the most malicious intent. He wished to share the gift of magic only with those of the purest of blood (pure blood wizards as opposed to muggle born children)._

_This displeased the other founders and they each grew to distrust and dislike Slyterhin. A year prior to Slytherin's departure, he completed the construction of a large chamber, hidden somewhere in the castle. Inside the chamber he placed a basilisk. The reason for the beast was to purify the school by ridding it of all muggle born children._

_No one has ever seen the chamber (apart from Salazar himself), and it has yet to be found._

Hermione reread the passage a few more times. _But it was found! Someone found it and figured out how to open it. Then they set the basilisk on Tom._

_To purify the Slytherin house…_

Hermione almost shuddered. She had got what she came for. She replaced the books back to their crevices in the shelves, grabbed her bag, and left the library.

x~x~x~x~x~x

She was ready to sleep. Almost ready. She eyed the journal uneasily. She felt a lot more refreshed when she slept without it. She was curious though.

_What was Tom up to?_

She reasoned for herself for a while before finally deciding to leave the journal on her bedside table. She slid the curtains shut and fell back into her pillows. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she felt sleep engulf her almost immediately.

x~x~x~x~x~x

_She walked along between shelves of books. Light was filtering in from the high glass windows and she could see dust faintly swirling in it. She was in the Hogwart's library. But how?_

_Then she spotted him. The familiar handsome boy with the well kept mass of curly dark hair. Only this time, he was asleep. He had dozed off and his head was cradled in the pages of a thick text book._

_Probably studying for his N.E., Hermione thought tenderly. Then she realized that she had not fallen asleep with the journal near her. How was all of this possible?_

_She walked over to him with plans of interrogation. Hermione shook his shoulder gently and he sat up quickly. His eyes met hers for a spit second before he rubbed them drowsily._

_"Where have you been?" he asked._

_"I've been a little busy," Hermione said half truthfully._

_Tom laughed, "Well so have I." He gestured to the parchment and text books laid out in front of him. "I mean, I probably could pass without studying, but…I'm not sure. I'm worried that I'll forget a really important fact or spell or something right as I'm taking the test."_

_"You get test anxiety?" Hermione asked. His cool demeanor was a little misleading. He was the last person she would expect to lose control over a test._

_He nodded, "Yeah. That pretty much sums it up."_

_"What am I doing here?" Hermione asked suddenly._

_Tom looked at her with a slightly disappointed facial expression. Something flashed in his eyes and his lips pressed together. "Hermione did you just come here tonight to ask questions?" he asked._

_"Well, I mean, I'm a little __**curious **__as to how all this is happening Tom," Hermione said. She sounded a little bit more irritated than she had meant to._

_"If I'm just a curiosity to you, Hermione, please stop bothering to visit me," he said cooly._

_"Now that's not what I meant at all," Hermione replied defensively._

_Tom clenched his fists and Hermione could see the joints beneath his already pale skin. His eyes bore into her and for a second she was sure that he was going to throw a fist into her face._

_But he didn't. The next second he was calm and clenching and unclenching his fists to stretch his hands. "My apologies, Hermione. I've just been under a lot of stress."_

_Hermione exhaled, quite unaware that she had been holding her breath. "Okay, I'll stop asking you questions," she said quietly._

_"It's just," Tom said. He looked as though he was physically searching for the proper words to use, "I don't like to be reminded that I'm dead and your questions are really good at reminding me that I am. I just want to feel __**alive **__Hermione. That's all."_

_"I think that's what we all want," Hermione said smiling._

_They sat and talked a bit about everything from school to the opinions and actions of the minister of magic. Hermione was mortified to learn that witches did not have as many rights as wizards. (It was a lot like muggle society during this time) she noted to herself._

_Tom and Hermione found themselves talking about Slughorn, a professor they both had in common. They agreed that he was a phenomenal teacher, but they were both made extremely uncomfortable by his little parties._

_"How are they in your time?" Tom asked. He was leaning back in his chair while Hermione perched on the edge of the desk in front of him._

_"Awful. This one time in my sixth year, I took a boy, well I can't even say __**boy **__seeing as he was so vile."_

_Tom frowned, "What did he do to you?"_

_"It was all rather harmless. I managed to avoid him for nearly the entire night," Hermione gloated._

_Tom relaxed and a smile played at the corner of his lips. "I'll show you one of his parties tomorrow night," he said decidedly._

_Hermione bit her lower lip. It was…like a date. But of course it wasn't. How preposterous. He was dead. Has been dead for a while. _

_"You're uneasy," he observed, "Why?"_

_She tried to find an answer to his question. Suddenly her thoughts were scrambling from her. She tried to focus just one of them and it squirmed like the barn owl from the owlery earlier that day. She scanned his face, he looked somewhat disappointed. She suddenly became acutely aware of the proximity of their legs. Almost close enough for contact._

_Hermione. What are you doing? she mentally shook herself. For a moment everything was clear. If he had wanted to hurt her, he would have already. Hell, he had even saved her life, sort of._

_She smiled, "I dunno, it's nothing. I was just being absurd. Of course I'll join you tomorrow night."_

_He grinned. "Fantastic. I look forward to seeing you."_

_Before Hermione could answer, the room began to warp, and she recognized the signs of the dream terminating._

**All of you are such interested readers, but I apologize because I can't answer any of your fabulous questions without giving away the plot.**

**Sherlockian: Oh my God! I hadn't even **_**realized **_**the Sherlock reference until you brought it up! You're so right lakjsdf i need to stop watching reruns :P**

**I know I said hiatus, I actually have exams and a lot of stuff due this past week and next week. Oops. Oh well. Do you all find that it's easiest to find inspiration when you're supposed to be doing **_**other **_**things?**

**I'm just plain rambling now**


	7. Chapter 7

Hermione woke up in a cloud of disorientation. She had decided to make it a habit to sleep with her watch on so that she could easily check the time. She did so now. Four AM. She groaned. _Why can't I sleep anymore?_

She laid back and attempted to return to her dreams. She was unsuccessful. She laid there for what felt like an hour. She suddenly had a brilliant idea.

_Harry and Ron are training at the ministry, they'll have access to loads of experts and information. Maybe they'll know something about Tom or what's going on._

She crawled to the end of her bed and drew the curtains back slightly. Darkness enveloped her and she could hear all the usual noises that her dorm mates made during their sleep. She had made a habit of sleeping with her wand as well. She drew it and whispered a quick 'lumps'. She reached down and dug through her bag before producing parchment, a quill, and a book for which to write on.

She scrambled back to sit against the headboard of her bed. She gripped her wand in her left hand and scribbled sleepily with her right.

_Harry and Ron,_

_I've come across a mysterious object. I've tried to test it for magic, but all the test came up negative. It is a journal, and inside it is locked the memory of a certain boy named Tom Riddle. If that name is somewhat familiar to you, he is seventeen, he is a Slytherin, and he has dark hair and very dashing gray eyes. (_Dashing? Hermione suddenly realized her word choice and scratched it out hastily.) _Tom visits me in my sleep. He shows me his various memories. I think he was alive during the 1940s. Also, I find that I am unable to sleep well once I have encountered Tom in my sleep._

_ Any information would be greatly appreciated._

_Hermione_

She suddenly felt very drowsy. She tossed the letter and writing supplies aside and laid back. She fell asleep almost instantly.

_Bellatrix was upon her. Her face was merely inches from Hermione's. Hermione could feel her rancid breath upon her face. She squirmed and Bellatrix cackled. Hermione felt a piercing sensation in her wrist and she turned to look. Bellatrix was innately carving an _m _into her flesh._

_Hermione cried out, but this only made Bellatrix laugh even more. She continued to rake her knife against Hermione's pale flesh. She could feel tears stinging in her eyes but she couldn't allow them to fall. She didn't want Bellatrix to think her weak. Instead she bit her lower lip and watched her captor's progress._

_m_

_u_

_d_

_b_

_l_

_o_

_o_

_d_

_Hermione turned to look away. It was too painful. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. She would have to bear the mark now. She would be stuck with the reminder of her blood status for the rest of her life. Each time she would look down it would be there, cackling at her. Reminding her of this misery and shame._

x~x~x~x~x~x

Hermione's eyes flashed open. She could feel the sweat sticking to her and she sat up. Her head throbbed and she could feel a dull pain fading from her wrist. She looked down at it and traced the letters there. She threw the curtains back angrily and was almost blinded by the sunlight that awaited her.

She remembered the letter she had written last night and decided to go to the owlery today and send it. However, it wasn't where she had discarded it last night. She ruffled through her sheets, threw open the drawers of her bedside table, and nearly emptied her trunk trying to look for it.

_Maybe I had only dreamt that I had written the letter. _she thought. But it had felt so real, there was no way that it had only happened in her head.

_How would you explain Tom then? _she reminded herself. She tried to sell herself a weak explanation about a house elf finding it in the middle of the night, confusing it for rubbish, and throwing it out. She got dressed quickly and went down t the Great hall. She had a busy Sunday planned for herself. It included all her usual activities like studying and reading, but it also continued trying to find some sort of explanation.

She entered the Great hall at the same moment as the owls. They swooped down from the windows high upon the walls and dropped various letters and parcels in front of the student body below.

Hermione took a seat at the Gryffindor table. She wasn't feeling very hungry so she simply grabbed a piece of toast and lathered it with margarine. The owls left the hall from the way they came and Hermione felt a small sinking feeling in her heart.

_Don't be silly, _she scolded herself. _They wouldn't have replied yet._

_ x~x~x~x~x~x_

Her day would have been productive if she had found an answer to the Riddle that was plaguing her. She had, however, managed to finish her school work and catch up on a bit of reading. She lay back against her pillow and let the darkness roll over her. She immediately felt sleep dragging on her and she wondered for the split second between consciousness and subconsciousness whether she was making the right decision. Was getting closer to Tom really what she needed right now?

_She was in a very recognizable room that would have been comforting to her if it had not been filled with a sizable crowd of people. The boys were dressed in fine dress robes of deep blue, dark green, gray, or black. The girls were dressed in gowns that almost reached the floor. She was at a Slug Club party. It was much like they had been in her time, although everything seemed much more glamorous._

_Suddenly she felt someone at her arm and she looked up only to lock eyes with the boy who had invited her. He smiled and she could see his pupils seeping into the space reserved for his irises. She returned his smile, almost naturally. "You look stunning," he said, only loud enough for her to hear._

_She looked down and noticed her own gown for the first time. It was a shade of purple that was so dark it was almost black. She noted how it accentuated her figure perfectly. She turned her attention back to Tom and took him in. She couldn't help but appreciate how handsome he looked in a pair of dress robes._

_Just then a group of live musicians began to play a very swingy jazz number and many of the couples around them began to move toward the dance floor in front of the small stage that was set up._

_Tom looked at her and smirked. "I don't dance," Hermione said firmly._

_"Neither do I," Tom said slyly. His hand was at her lower back and he was guiding her gently into the crowd._

_"No, Tom. Honestly, I'd rather not embarrass myself," Hermione insisted, trying to squirm away._

_Tom took her hand in his, entwining his fingers in between hers. He moved closer to her, so close that she could smell the distinct scent of cologne that he radiated. She was paralyzed. "Don't worry," he soothed, "Just…go with it."_

_And with that they were off. They jived quickly with the beat and Tom had the __**nerve **__to dip her on more than one occasion. She was livid, and embarrassed…_

_but she was also having a pretty good time._

_She laughed suddenly, finding the entire situation completely ridiculous. There was no need to be embarrassed. This was only happening in her subconscious and the only witness to it has been dead for the past fifty years._

_Tom's eyes glittered as he took in the sight of Hermione truly enjoying herself. The number finished and many of the couples retreated from the floor. Hermione and Tom spent the evening laughing, eating various sorts of finger food, and drinking a little too much fire whiskey._

_The night closed with a particularly sad song which found Tom and Hermione swaying drowsily on the dance floor. Many of the other students had left for the night. By now there were only a handful of couples left. Hermione's head rested against Tom's chest and his head was bowed over hers. She could feel his breath tickling against her scalp and his heartbeat against her ear. It was still odd to her that he even had a heartbeat, but she was unable to wonder further because she was trapped in a sort of drunken fog._

_"Thank you," he said quietly._

_"For what?" Hermione slurred._

_Tom chucked, "For this. For coming here, and.."_

_"And what?"_

_"And making me feel so alive." he finished._

_Hermione pulled away from him and studied his face. There was pain glittering in his eyes that threatened to leak in the form of tears. She smiled reassuringly and he did his best to return that smile._

_She hated seeing him sad, especially after seeing him so happy. She placed a hand on either side of his face and without thinking, she kissed him. It was gentle and pleading, as if to say, please don't hurt any longer._

_He was paralyzed at first, but quickly began to return the kiss. She could feel it. She could sense everything around her blurring. She tried to fight it. She tried to stay in the moment with this lost, broken, intelligent, and tender boy. But she was not strong enough._

Her eyes snapped open and she was left to reflect on what had just happened to her.

**Hey! Yup. So goes another chapter of this story.**

**Thank you all for keeping with it and reviewing and just being so damn lovely**


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione sat in the Great hall. The eggs and bacon on the plate in front of her were now room temperature and her eyes were fixed to the rafters. She watched the last of the owls flutter through the high windows of the hall. Her eyes lingered for a few seconds while she silently hoped to see a stray owl swoop in. She looked down, disappointed. The food on her plate did not tempt her in any way so she stood up and left the hall.

_Why haven't they written back yet? _Hermione wondered. Her fists clenched at her sides as she sped across the entrance hall.

"Hermione!" a voice called from behind her.

Hermione spun around, "What?" she growled. She didn't appreciate her thoughts being interrupted like that.

"Oh, um, sorry," Ginny Weasley slowed her pace. "I didn't mean to bother you."

Hermione rubbed her forehead irritably. A headache was casually blooming there like a flower in the crack of a sidewalk. "Sorry, long night. Didn't get a lot of sleep." It was half true. She hadn't been sleeping all that much, but it wasn't just last night. It had been every night that week. She had been waking up in the wee hours and once awake, found that she couldn't return to sleep.

Ginny gave her a reassuring smile, "We've all had one or two of those. I was just wondering if you're going to stay over during break."

Something inside Hermione sparked. "I wasn't aware that I was welcome," she replied cooly.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, "Don't be thick," she said, "you're always welcome."

"I've got other plans," Hermione said and she turned and walked away briskly before Ginny could protest.

x~x~x~x~x~x

Hermione found that she could not focus at all during her classes. Her attention seemed to always wander away and land on a certain dark haired boy. Her headache was pressing against the inside of her skull and her head threatened to explode under its pressure. Her eyelids also began to feel heavier and heavier as the day wore on.

She was trudging down the hallway after a practically painful hour of Herbology. Her shoes were caked in mud that she had tracked in from the grounds. Usually she would have charmed the mud off in her respect for the house elves, but today she found that she could not be bothered with such a task. The pain in her head was nearly unbearable and she was beginning to feel weak. She teetered a bit and the world threatened to disappear into a haze of darkness, but someone was able to catch her.

"Are you okay, Miss Granger?" a gentle male voice asked from behind her.

She recognized the voice as that of Professor Slughorn. "Forgive me, Professor," she mumbled weakly, "I haven't been feeling very well these past few days."

"Perhaps a visit to the hospital wing?" he suggested while he helped her regain her balance and grip on the world.

"No, it's not that severe," Hermione tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace.

Professor Slughorn looked at her with a blatant expression of concern on his face. "What's troubling you, Hermione?"

Hermione shrugged, "Haven't really been able to sleep is all."

"I might have something for that in my office," Slughorn offered.

Hermione almost managed to smile again. That's exactly what she needed. "Sure, thanks professor," she said thankfully. She followed him to the dungeons. He was a chunky man who usually had a slow gait, but she could tell that he was moving even slower to accommodate her pace. She was having trouble keeping her vision straight. Not tripping over her own feet was proving to be an even more difficult task.

They reached the Professor's office soon enough and Hermione leaned against a nearby wall to steady herself while he unlocked it. She waited in the doorway while he sifted through a cabinet filled with vials until he produced one that contained a liquid of shimmering clear liquid.

He handed it over and she accepted it gratefully. "Is that all you need?" he asked.

She nodded, thanked him, and was about to walk away when she stopped. She turned and asked something that had been bothering her since her first encounter with Tom, "Professor, is it possible for a ghost to, well, haunt an object?" she asked. She felt that out of all the professors at school, Slughorn was the oldest and was generally the most amicable with the students. She felt that he would respect a certain confidentiality.

His eyebrows furrowed, "You mean like a poltergeist? Peeves does, on occasion, choose to 'haunt' the supply closet. Throwing vials and ingredients around and such. Sure makes a dreadful mess."

"What about something like a journal?" Hermione asked.

"I suppose so. I'm assuming this journal is a real object. Does it fly around the room, or make any form of noise?"

Hermione shook her head, "No. I mean, well, sometimes I'll leave it in my bag and when I wake up in the morning it will be in my bed."

"Have you tested it for magic?" Slughorn asked.

"It was clean," Hermione replied. "I've been having dreams though. Dreams about the boy who used to own the journal."

"Oh? Tell me about these dreams,"

"Well, he just shows me some of his memories and such. They're really. really vivid," Hermione explained. Slughorn frowned. "What?" Hermione asked.

"I have a suspicion. Please, feel free to talk to me if you find out any more about this journal. For now I have to get to class. Doesn't look to well when a teacher's late for a lesson."

Hermione nodded and they exchanged a goodbye. Her headache was growing more painful and she headed to the common room before it could consume her.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

She sunk into bed and closed her eyes. Her headache had dissipated some and she rolled over to take the vial from her bed side table. She uncorked it and noted that it smelled faintly sweet. She took a small swig and re-corked it before setting the vial on the table again. She drew her curtains and immediately felt the darkness of sleep pulling at her consciousness.

_She was bound by an invisible force in a cramped stone room. She could feel panic slowly spreading through her veins and sending a slight tingle of adrenaline through her muscles. She managed to sit up. There was a large metal door set in the wall opposite of her. The room smelled of rot and human waste. "Hello?" she shouted uncertainly. The only reply she received was the echo of her voice against the stones. She rested her head against the stone wall behind her._

_Suddenly there was a dull thudding on the door. Hermione slid herself closer to it. "Is someone there?" she asked loudly._

_"Hermione?" came a muffled reply from the other side of the door. The feminine voice was quiet, but immediately recognizable._

_"Mom!" Hermione shouted. "Mom get me out of here!" She could feel desperate tears stinging at the corners of her eyes._

_"I'm trying!" there was a feeble tug at the door handle. Then, a lower portion of the door slid away. Hermione assumed that's where food was slipped into the room. She collapsed to the floor and slid closer to the opening. Her mother crouched down and for a moment they just looked at each other's faces. Her mother had a black eye and a particularly angry wound at her left temple that was sending blood seeping down her face._

_"Mom, just go," Hermione's voice cracked. "I'll be fine. You just go."_

_"I won't leave you," her mother whispered._

_"I'll be fine. You just go," Hermione repeated._

_Suddenly her mother's eyes widened and she let out a scream. She was dragged from view. "Mom!" Hermione shouted. The opening in the door was slammed shut. "MOM!" Hermione repeated. She sat up and threw her weight against the door. "MOM!"_

_Her mother's screams grew fainter and fainter. Hermione collapsed against the cool metal of the door and began to cry._

_ x~x~x~x~x~x_

_She awoke and immediately sat up. She looked around the room. She didn't recognize it at all. The walls were a mint green color, and there was a single barred window next to the wall. She pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The metal cot beneath her creaked warily. The door opened suddenly revealing a familiar curly haired boy._

_"Tom," she said desperately. _

_He spun around and his eyes widened when he saw her. He shut the door behind him hastily and moved toward her. "What are you doing here, Hermione? Are you okay?" he asked, eyeing her with concern._

_She looked up at him and considered lying and assuring him that she was fine. She decided against it. "I had a dream. A nightmare really," she said._

_He sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She immediately felt comfort easing away her tension. "What about?" he asked quietly._

_While Hermione explained her dream Tom listened intently. Her took to brushing the hair from her face and rubbing her back. When she was finished they sat in silence for a while._

_"She wouldn't leave you? Even when she herself was in danger?" Tom asked. His voice was darker than usual and Hermione turned to face him. Something crimson flashed in his eyes, and at first she thought she had imagined it. They returned to their pale gray color almost instantly._

_"Yeah," was all Hermione could muster. She was tired and confused by Tom's reaction._

_He looked down and refused to make eye contact with her. "What about your mother, Tom?" she asked. She suddenly wished she hadn't._

_"My mother?" Tom snorted. "Look around you. I have no mother."_

_Hermione released herself from Tom's grasp and explored the room in greater detail. She looked out of the dingy window at the gray world beyond. There was a small yard in front of the building surrounded by a tall brick wall. There were children playing in the grass below. The boys were dressed in gray tweed pants with white collared shirts. The girls were dressed in gray sleeved dresses. Hermione turned and noticed Tom wearing a similar uniform._

_"An orphanage?"_

_Tom smiled humorlessly. "Correct. I suppose you want to know why."_

_Hermione nodded and sat down next to him. It was her turn to provide comfort. She wrapped one of his hands in both of hers and listened._

_"My mom died when I was born. My dad, didn't really want to have me in the first place, I guess, so he left me here. I guess that means that I don't really have anyone on my side," he clenched his free hand into a fist._

_"That's not true," Hermione said. He looked up at her. "I'm on your side," she said removing her hand from the top of his and resting it on the side of his face._

_And that's when he kissed her. This time they were both completely sober. The kiss was pleading and needy. He was mysterious and possibly dangerous, but Hermione could see his cracks and fissures and all she wanted in that moment was to fix them._

_His arms wound around her waist and pulled her closer to him. His tongue danced lightly along her lower lip. Hermione gasped and he pulled back immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked. Concern shone in his eyes._

_She laughed a true, genuine laugh and pulled him back into another kiss._

**Hi. Yeah, sorry for the long over due update. It's just this fic requires a lot of planning + thought. I know many of you are really really confused about Tom's behavior, but relax. Breathe. I've read the books and watched the movies. I got this 3**

**Thanks for all the reviews and encouraging comments! You guys are the reason why I keep continuing this fic**


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